


myths wrongly interpreted

by somehowunbroken



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-21
Updated: 2013-10-21
Packaged: 2017-12-29 22:33:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1010909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somehowunbroken/pseuds/somehowunbroken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim has lost enough in his life. He isn’t going to lose anything - or anyone - else, not if there’s a chance that he can fix it. [Fix-it fic for Batman Incorporated #8.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	myths wrongly interpreted

**Author's Note:**

> I knew I was going to have to write fix-it fic for Batman Incorporated 8 before I even read it. I didn’t expect the story to develop quite how it did, but I definitely accomplished what I wanted to here. By and large, I mashed Bat-canons together at will, because trying to figure out where Batman Incorporated fits into Gotham at large is a headache for someone much more devoted to canon than I.
> 
> Title is from Without Mythologies by The Weakerthans, which is one of the Robin-est songs I’ve ever heard, no matter who’s filling the short pants at the time.
> 
> Spoilers for: Batman Incorporated 8, Teen Titans 18 (and vague Teen Titans happenings to this point); the Death of the Family storyline; vague Demon Knights through 18 to be safe (but you don’t have to be familiar with it at all); Tim Drake’s pre-reboot history.
> 
> If you’d like more specific warnings, or more info on what exactly is spoiled, message me! I’m happy to explain.

“I need a favor.”

Jason Blood is smaller than Tim was expecting. He’s an inch or so shorter than Dick, and while he’s clearly in good shape, he’s nowhere near as muscled as Tim had figured a master of hand-to-hand combat would be.

Tim snaps out of his thoughts when Jason coughs. He’s smiling a little as Tim looks up. “I don’t bite, Timothy.”

“I haven’t-” Tim starts, then shakes his head. “Never mind. I don’t want to ask, because I’ll either believe you or I won’t, and I’m not sure which would be worse.”

“That’s fair,” Jason agrees. “What’s this about a favor?”

The hesitation must be showing in his face, Tim knows, but he doesn’t try to control it. He’s not here on official business; he’s not a representative of Batman, not right now. _Emotions are good for you, Tim_ , he hears in his head, a voice he doesn’t quite recognize, and – yeah, okay, that’s part of why he’s here.

Tim opens his mouth and shuts it, shaking his head. “I’m not sure how to ask any of this without sounding crazy.”

“If it helps,” Jason offers, smile still in place, “I very much doubt that you could ask anything that I’ve not been asked before, and knowing what I do of you and your family, it isn’t likely to shock me.”

“I need some sort of failsafe,” Tim says after a moment. “I can’t… I have this feeling. There’s a lot to lose, and I’ve lost-”

This is where his logic breaks. He’s lost his parents, yeah, but it’s not as if they’re _gone_ ; there is every chance that he’ll be able to reunite with them once he’s managed to fix the mess he made with Penguin. It feels like there’s _more_ , that he’s finding ghosts that he doesn’t recognize in every room he enters, and each shadow he sees out of the corner of his eyes hits him with another wave of grief that he hasn’t earned.

Jason is suddenly focusing on Tim’s face, amusement replaced by sharp concentration. “You’ve lost more than many have,” he says. “I’m just surprised that you remember it.”

“I don’t,” Tim says, frowning. “This is the part where the crazy comes in.”

Jason sighs and drops to one of the chairs in the sitting room, folding his hands together. “Allow me a question. What do you know of universes?”

“The universe is like a container,” Tim replies. “Planets, star systems, empty space. Galaxies. Everything observable is within the universe.”

“Yes,” Jason says, nodding. “And also no. You’re not incorrect,” he adds when Tim frowns. “Our universe is everything that we can observe, and much that we can’t. It is not, however, the only one of its kind.”

“Other universes,” Tim says flatly. “What, there’s another me out there three universes over who lost a bunch of people, and I’m getting his, I don’t know, universe echoes?”

Jason pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’d ask you to remember that you thought yourself crazy until I started to explain. Please give me the benefit of the doubt, or at least a chance to give you further clarification.”

It can’t hurt anything, Tim knows. At the worst, he’ll have lost a lead on getting what he wants, and he’ll have to figure out a way to talk Zatanna into making it. He nods at Jason.

“There are an infinite number of universes,” Jason says. “Every decision, every choice, every outcome spawns an alternate. Multiply that by the number of people in the world, past and present, and you begin to see what I mean by infinite.”

He pauses, maybe for effect. Tim appreciates it regardless of his intention; it’s a lot to take in. “So there’s a universe out there where-”

“Yes,” Jason cuts in. “Whatever you’re thinking right now, the answer is yes. It’s out there somewhere. It might be close by; it might be billions of universes over. I can’t help you find it,” he continues. “Nothing but trouble lies in that direction.”

“According to your theory, somewhere out there exists a universe where you just did,” Tim shoots back.

Jason’s smile is grim. “Not for much longer.”

“What?”

“Universes aren’t very stable, in the grand scheme of things,” Jason explains. “Throwing yourself through the walls of one and crashing into another tends to make them collapse, and not particularly slowly. It’s possible to travel between universes without causing a catastrophe, but it takes more resources than I keep on hand.”

Tim nods slowly. "So I’m not taking a day trip to another universe. Got it."

"Good," Jason says. "Now, think about the last major decision that you made. We'll not worry about things like which shirt you put on this morning; there's a green-shirt universe as well as a yellow-shirt universe, but they're not really a good example for the point I'd like to get to."

Tim shrugs. "Coming here was big, I guess."

"That will do nicely," Jason says. "Now, the universe where you decided against visiting me… in the grand scheme of things, it's close to our own. It might spiral farther away as time goes on, but at this moment, the events of that universe and the one we currently inhabit are similar. The decisions that happen after this point in each universe could cause them to stay together, or to split off and go in other directions."

"It sound like the answer to 'which of those is likely' would be 'both'," Tim observes.

Jason grins. "You catch on quickly. I see why Batman is fond of you; your mind must be a great asset to his organization."

"Ah," Tim replies, glancing away. "Sure. Universes, though."

Jason nods. "Indeed. The reason I bring all of this up is to explain your... thoughts. The feeling that you've lost something."

Suddenly Tim isn't sure he wants to know. He's got a hazy idea already, and it's ugly enough that he doesn't want the details. He forces himself to swallow. "Yeah?"

"There was… an incident," Jason says. "It was about eighteen months ago by this point, in a universe that no longer exists." He hesitates. "Well, that isn't entirely accurate."

"Something happened there," Tim guesses. "To the me who lived there."

"Yes," Jason says. "And yes again, and again." At Tim's look, he sighs. "Normally, when something goes catastrophically wrong in a universe, it disappears in a way that is, all told, both frightening and painful. In this case, though, instead of the universe tearing apart at the seams, it... blended."

"Blended," Tim echoes. "With another universe? With our universe."

Jason sighs. "Once again, the answer is both yes and no. Our universe – the one we now inhabit – is the result of that one failing universe combining itself with several nearby universes – places where the details were a little different, but the world was basically the same. Instead of causing a massive collapse across multiple universes, the process created a stable universe with a blended sort of history. The result is where we now live."

"So they're not dreams," Tim says, trying to keep his voice calm. "There was a place out there where I lost everyone." _Mom and Dad_ , he doesn't say. _All of my friends. People I loved._

"Yes," Jason says gently. "And there were other places where that wasn't true."

Tim swallows and nods. He was right; he didn't want to know this. He'll be glad to have the knowledge later, he knows, but it's a little much to handle at the moment.

"I'm not sure what the mathematics are, exactly," Jason goes on, "but it makes sense to think that it was the law of averages that decided things, more or less. For instance, if you were married more than you weren't across the universes involved, you'd be married when this universe kick-started itself."

"So if they're not actually dead right now, they stayed alive more than they didn't," Tim says. "I'm not sure how comforting that actually is."

Jason shrugs. "I only meant to explain to you that you weren't actually crazy. I'm not sure the truth is any comfort."

Tim shakes his head. "Knowledge is power," he says, echoing a teacher whose name he hasn't thought of in years. Had all of his other selves have the same set of instructors, or was that one of the things that made the universes split away?

"I'd advise you not to worry about it, but I can tell that it won't be much use," Jason says. He sounds older than he looks, but knowing his history, Tim knows how little that actually means. "How about an offer of a cup of tea?"

"That might help," Tim agrees, settling into one of the armchairs and taking a deep breath. "Thank you."

Jason putters around in his kitchen for a few minutes, and Tim has the distinct feeling that it's more to provide time for Tim to get himself together than anything else. That's fine; he can use it. He sits still, trying to merge what he'd known with what Jason had revealed.

There are bits of his thoughts that make more sense now; there's no denying it. Sometimes his gut clenches when he looks at Superboy or Kid Flash, and he gets the weird feeling that he’s looking at a ghost. Whenever something particularly amusing happens while he's on patrol, he finds himself making a mental note to tell someone, but can never quite remember who it is. There's nothing but glimpses of her out of the edges of his vision, purple and yellow and a laugh that makes everything flare brightly, and there's a hollow sort of ache there, too.

And that's nothing compared to the feelings Tim sometimes gets around his family. There are days when he's so mad at Bruce that he wants to shake the man until his teeth rattle, but when he thinks about it too much, he can feel the emptiness that Bruce would leave if he wasn't around to make Tim crazy. It's a smoky sort of place, a hole in himself that would never quite fill in but never really be empty. It's not something he likes contemplating.

Tim keeps an eye on his parents. Of course he does; he knows the rest of the family thinks he's a little obsessive about things, but it pays to be careful. Occasionally he wakes up in the middle of his night, chest heaving, and has to scramble for a camera feed just to make sure they're okay, that they're not frothing and seizing from poison, too far away for him to help, that there's nobody with a blade standing over them…

But if it's all happened - if there are _reasons_ for him to feel like this - well. It's not a comfort, not really, but at least he isn't losing his mind.

At least he has a reason to ask for the favor he'd been so sure wouldn’t be granted.

Jason comes back in just as Tim gets himself settled. He hands over a cup of tea, and Tim breathes in the steam. He'd say the timing was coincidence, but some of the rumors that Tim has heard about Jason Blood include things like _limited telepathy_ and _precognition_. They might be true and they might not; if nothing else, Jason has certainly been around for long enough to pick up on body language.

Jason hums thoughtfully over his tea. "That I have, but when you throw thoughts about as you've been doing, Timothy, I do indeed pick them up." He flashes a smile when Tim flinches and starts thinking really hard about the last chapter of _Catcher in the Rye_ that he’d had to read for school. "Rest assured that I haven't probed your mind for anything, nor do I intend to do so. I've the feeling that the favor you're asking of me will take enough of my strength that I shouldn't bother wasting it on parlor tricks."

Tim nods. "Sorry if thinking any of that offended you. That wasn't what I-"

"No worries," Jason cuts in. "As you know, I'm old enough to have heard far worse, and things that were meant as offense besides." He sips his tea. "I've also been around for long enough to become fairly good at guessing at the pieces of the puzzles presented to me. You didn't come here talking about loss just to hear about the concept of the multiverse, I'm sure."

"Not exactly," Tim replies. The tea is strong and hot, with a hint of something spicy curling at the back of his mouth. It's probably specifically blended to put people at ease. It does the job well, and Tim takes another sip before continuing. "I need something to… to prevent it."

"Death?" Jason asks, arching an eyebrow. "I'm a sorcerer, Timothy, and a damn good one, but even I-"

"I misspoke," Tim cuts in. "Not a preventative, per se. I need… a failsafe. If I'm there, if I'm fast enough, if there's something that will give me an edge so I can get someone back..."

Jason hums again. "I'm not sure if you know what you're asking for."

"I do," Tim insists. "A soul-catcher, or something to that effect. I'm not going to try to raise anyone who's been dead for years. I just want to be able to give my teammates every chance that I can give them to survive." He pauses to suck in a breath. "I just - if I can prevent it, if I can give them a little help, that might be the difference between warning a teammate to be more careful the next time and burying them."

Silence falls as Tim finishes. Jason looks off into the distance, sipping at his tea until the mug is empty, then setting the mug and saucer on an end table before focusing his gaze back onto Tim.

 

"Nothing exists like what you're looking for," he says. He holds up a hand when Tim opens his mouth to interject. "I have something else in mind, though, and it would accomplish what you're asking."

"Okay," Tim says instantly. "Tell me what it is. Tell me what I need to do."

Jason looks at him steadily. "It won't be anything like easy or enjoyable, and there will be limitations. Rules of the game, so to say."

"I figured there would be," Tim replies. "Tell me everything I need to know."

-0-

Part of being one of the cape and cowl crowd is dealing with weird situations. That’s a good part of the reason their set exists, Tim thinks; if the weird stuff wasn’t out there, then the cops would be able to handle things on their own, and people with more specialized skill sets wouldn’t be needed. As such, the weird stuff is kind of his domain.

Even so, the whole Leviathan situation is _weird_.

He's been following it on and off; he’s a Batman Incorporated operative, so he’s kept up-to-date with the situations that they’re handling, but as someone who is out of Gotham more than he’s in it these days, his role is more advisory than participatory. Bruce emails him detailed collections of information, theorizing and wondering before drawing his own conclusions. Tim rarely replies to those emails; Bruce is just using him as a sounding board, knowing that Tim will let him know if he makes any leaps in logic that aren’t founded, but otherwise just needing to send the information to someone who isn’t really involved in the day-to-day fight.

Tim’s in Gotham now because of the recent Joker chaos. The Joker is one of the weird ones that makes people like Tim’s family necessary; that has always been clear, even though it’s never been particularly appreciated. The Joker is never good news, and it isn’t often that Tim wholeheartedly sides with the Red Hood's particular way of doing things, but he has to admit that taking the Joker out of the game permanently would do more good than harm.

This whole incident should have proven just that, but instead had ended with the somehow-still-shocking news that Bruce had held out on them. It was a lie of omission, sure, but one of the first things Tim had learned while training with Bruce was that lies were lies were lies, and all the pretty dressing was smoke and mirrors. The knowledge that Bruce holds himself above the rules he uses to pin the rest of them twists and coils in Tim’s stomach, and the fact that the Joker is the one who gleefully pointed it out to all of them hurts even more.

Ideally, Tim would be heading back to the Titans by this point. He’d like to be on his way there, where his biggest issues at the moment are how he’s going to keep Kid Flash from stealing more of his clothing or whether or not he should try to navigate a personal relationship with Cassie. He’d rather be figuring out what their next target should be, but Bruce connects all of the Leviathan-related dots just as Tim is heading out, and, well.

It's _Talia_.

It’s no great secret that Tim and Damian aren’t the closest of brothers, but that doesn’t mean that Tim is going to abandon him when things go to hell. Even though he doesn’t live with his parents, Tim doesn’t doubt that they care, that they want the best for him. Damian, on the other hand, is hard-wired to assume that neither parent really wants him as anything more than a useful tool, and finding out that Talia is the one who put a bounty out for Damian’s death can’t be helping the kid. Bruce grounding him from patrol and seriously considering sending him back to Talia can only be making it worse.

Tim pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs before tapping his communicator. “Where do you need me, B?”

“Wayne Tower,” Bruce says shortly. “I want everyone to make their way over there ASAP. Nightwing, Wingman-”

“Copy,” Dick says. “I’ll be a little while. There’s something extra weird going on where I’m at, and I want to make sure GCPD has a handle on things before I move out.”

“Noted,” Bruce replies. “Wingman?”

“I’ll let you know,” Jason says, voice terse. “I seem to have gotten myself into a pickle. Sweet gherkin, though, none of that sour shit. Let me work it out and I’ll get there.”

Tim can’t help his reflexive grin. He and Damian might not be close, but Tim’s relationship with Jason is decent, and it's getting better with each obstacle they’re tossed against. If nothing else, it’s good to know that there’s someone in the family whose idea of humor isn’t puns.

“I’ll head there now,” Tim says. “ETA fifteen to twenty minutes, barring anything unusual.”

“Everything is _unusual_ , Red,” Dick says, clearly forcing the cheer in his voice. “I know you’re working in New York now, but you know how Gotham is.”

Tim lets his snort carry over the comm before toggling it off.

He’s checking his supplies one last time when Damian approaches him, arms clasped tightly around his frame. Tim is struck once again by how _small_ Damian is – he’s big for his age, sure, and he’s only going to get bigger, but he’s still a kid, and it never shows more clearly than when he’s out of the Robin suit.

“Damian,” Tim says, pausing in his preparations. “We’ll get this figured out. You’ll be back on patrol in no time.”

“I should be out there,” Damian snaps. “She is my mother. She is here because of me. I can stop her.”

Tim sighs. “I don’t think this _is_ about you, Damian. This is about Talia and Bruce and their inability to just send an email when they’re having a bad day.”

Damian rolls his eyes, but he can’t hide the twitch of his lips that might have been a smile if the comment had come from Dick instead of Tim. “Try not to get yourself injured. Pennyworth says that I’m to help him with first aid, and neither one of us wants me stitching you up.”

“You have a good night too, Damian,” Tim says, slinging a leg over his bike and settling into the seat. “Try not to stab anyone with the needle more than they deserve.”

“Deserve according to whom?” Damian replies, raising an eyebrow as he steps back.

Tim shakes his head and waves as he heads for the exit. Maybe his relationship with Damian isn’t beyond saving. Maybe getting things fixed with Bruce and Talia will soothe Damian’s ruffled feathers enough for Tim to try.

The ride to Wayne Enterprises is just one more strange note to add to the sum total of the day. The streets are almost completely free of traffic, but there are Leviathan zombies pretty much everywhere. Tim stops twice on the ride over to rescue pockets of people from attack. He slides off of his bike in front of Wayne Enterprises seventeen minutes after leaving the Cave, checking in as he moves.

Talia is definitely inside; Tim knows it as soon as he sees not-Ellie wearing Ellie's nametag behind the reception desk. From there it’s a flurry of improvisation and ass-kicking, and Tim lets himself settle into it, moving like he’s been trained to. He’s entirely unsurprised when Damian bursts through a window while he’s taking out yet another group of Talia’s personal guard, and he notes Dick sliding in a moment later.

The fight drags on. Tim keeps his brothers in his periphery; Dick goes down but doesn't stop breathing, and Damian is keeping the big guy occupied, so Tim continues to work his way through the guards, heading up to the second floor to take out as much of the cover fire as he can manage. He’s hoping that Jason turns up, if only because he’s starting to get tired and it seems like for every guy he knocks down two more pop up.

“Wrong story,” he tells the next guy he punches in the face. “You’re thinking of the Hydra.”

“Leviathan rises,” the guy spits. Tim hits him again, and then the guy isn’t saying much of anything through all of his unconsciousness.

“Leviathan falls,” Tim points out as the guy slips out of his grasp. “Leviathan-”

He ducks and spins instinctively at the sound from the main floor. Two guys converge upon the spot he isn’t in anymore, but Tim barely notices as he vaults the balcony and glides down to the main floor. Dick is screaming, reaching towards Damian, who is lying on the floor a few feet away.

He’s perfectly still, and his cape has been pulled up over his face.

Tim’s insides seize, and everything goes hot and cold as he stares at Damian. His little brother. Dead. Dead, dead, too young, too small, not…

“No,” Dick sobs, getting to his feet and stumbling towards Damian. “No, no, no-”

Tim shakes his head hard, tearing at the release on his uniform’s tunic and reaching for the pendant he’s been wearing looped around his neck for months. He grabs Damian’s left hand and tries not to think about how Damian should be fighting his grip, how he should snap and pull his hand away-

“Call Jason Blood,” Tim says to Dick. Then he wraps the string on the pendant around his wrist and Damian’s, and slips the pendant between their palms.

Tim crushes their hands together, and everything shorts out.

-0-

Awareness slams back into Tim. He sucks in a breath and forces his eyes open, blinking in an attempt to get the fog to clear.

It takes him a moment to realize that it’s probably a function of wherever he is that it won’t. Things fall into place quickly after that, and Tim looks around, remembering what Jason had told him when he’d handed the pendant over.

_"Your mind will bring you somewhere familiar to start. Somewhere safe. Get your bearings as quickly as you can, and then find whoever you’ve gone after even faster. The longer you’re there…”_

Jason hadn’t finished the thought, but then, he hadn’t had to. Tim had known it immediately, and he can feel it now that he’s used the pendant. The longer he’s here, the longer that _Damian_ is here, the harder it will be to get back out.

“Okay,” Tim mutters. The sound echoes around him, as if he’s in a big room, or…

Tim sighs as he realizes what his mind considers safe enough for this. “I’m in the Cave, aren't I.”

As soon as he says it, the fog slips away. Sure enough, he’s in the Cave, staring at the lockers. He glances around, but nothing seems out of place. Tim shakes his head. "That's probably why I'm here. Everything is where it should be, right?"

"Right," an amused voice says. Tim swears and spins as Jason walks down the last few steps into the Cave. "A place for everything, and everything in its place?"

"Jason," Tm says, straightening. "I didn't think – can you come and go here at will?"

Jason shakes his head. "To your Cave, yes, but not along with you on your trip. You're centered here, which makes you easy to find. Once you leave, that will be much more difficult."

"Got it," Tim says, shaking his hands. "Any last words of advice?"

There's a moment of uncomfortable silence before Jason sighs. "You'll want to be quick but careful, Timothy. I'm aware that you already know that, but time truly is of the essence."

"I know," Tim says. "The longer we're down here-"

"It's not only that," Jason interrupts. "Damian's body… well. You saw how badly he was injured. I can keep him in stasis for some time, but…"

Tim is pretty sure that the gnawing pit in his stomach is fear. "So if I'm not fast enough down here, I could get him back up there and, what, he'll have no body to get back to?"

"You do have some time," Jason says gently, "but it's a possibility, yes. And if that happens, the consequences will be… I think I'll stick with 'disastrous' and let your mind fill in the blanks."

Damian as a ghost. Damian as a zombie. Damian somehow getting back into his body and dying all over again.

Tim breathes evenly until he can chase the images away. "How long do I have?"

"I can't tell you that," Jason says. "Time isn't as fixed here as you're used to. I could say an hour, a day, a week, and while I might be exactly right about how much time it would be on the other side, I have no way of knowing how long it will seem to you. It seems that you've only just arrived here, but you activated the pendant nearly four hours ago."

"Great," Tim mutters. "A race against a time bomb, only all I can find is the ticking noise."

Jason smiles. "You're Red Robin. I have faith."

Tim sketches a bow before looking around the Cave again. "So I have to find a way out of here, and I have to figure out where Damian is."

"It won't be as difficult as you think," Jason says, pointing to the computer bank. There's a monitor on, and as Tim gets closer, he can make out Damian's form huddled against what appears to be the wall of the Wayne Enterprises building. He's staring at something that Tim can't see, and he looks younger than Tim's ever thought possible.

"So I just have to go and grab him out of the building?" Tim asks.

There's no answer, and when he turns around, Jason has vanished.

Tim shakes his head and heads for the bikes. He's feeling cautiously optimistic about this whole thing.

The ride to Wayne Enterprises is odd at best. The roads are all where they should be, which Tim is grateful for, but there’s way less traffic than is usual at this time of day. Gotham never shuts down, even when it probably should, so the fact that Tim can take the most direct route without getting caught in a traffic jam is downright bizarre.

Well, Tim thinks, it’s not as if this is actually Gotham. Maybe that’s why.

Tim frowns as he pulls up outside the Wayne Enterprises building. It’s surrounded by police, but they take no notice of him even though he parks right in the middle of everything. Tim recognizes most of them as the night shift Gotham beat, and as he looks around, he spots Bullock talking to the commissioner near the main entrance. Gordon has a look on his face that Tim has seen too many times, the one that says he’s seen something that will haunt his nightmares until the day he dies.

“-hundred unconscious people in there,” Bullock says as Tim draws close. “As grateful as I know we are to the Bat and his buds, when they knock out a bunch of assholes, one of ‘em usually sticks around to explain it all to us. What gives this time?”

Gordon’s lips tighten. “The only time I’ve known them to slip away is when one of their own is hurt. Badly hurt.”

There’s a few seconds of silence before Bullock blows out a breath and shakes his head. “You don’t think-”

“I’m trying not to,” Gordon says, but there’s a bleak light in his eyes that says a lot about what he’s seen. “I’m going to do my best to have a little faith.”

Tim nods to Gordon even though the man doesn’t see him. He turns and walks towards the door, frowning at his predicament. He’d been able to operate things in the Cave without a problem, but if he just opens the door and walks in here, it’ll freak the police out. He narrows his eyes, considering the issue, and finally just reaches for the door.

His hand sinks through the handle, and Tim pulls it back with a startled intake of breath. He pushes it forward again with caution, and sure enough, it passes through the door without resistance. Tim takes a deep breath and walks forward one step, two, three, until he’s through the door and standing in the lobby of the building.

It’s clearly the aftermath of the scene that Tim had left when he'd activated the pendant. There are a lot of unconscious Leviathan fighters pretty much everywhere Tim can see. Dick is gone, though, and when Tim forces himself to turn and look, neither he nor Damian are on the floor. If he's actually somehow looking at the scene of Damian's death, and not some weird universe-afterlife-whatever version of it, then it definitely lends credence to Jason telling him it's been hours on the other side.

There’s a shuddering sigh from across the room, and Tim turns to focus as quickly as he can. Damian is in the same spot that he’d been in when Tim had seen him on the cameras, a huddled-up ball of a Robin, and Tim grimaces when he follows Damian’s line of sight. He’s staring directly at the spot where he’d fallen. There's still a pool of blood on the floor.

“Damian,” Tim says, as gently as he can.

Damian doesn’t move a muscle. “You should be with the family, Timothy. They need you right now, and there is nothing more you can do here.” He sighs, hunching into himself even farther. “There is no mystery to be solved. There are no clues to gather. Go home and comfort Grayson.”

“Not without you,” Tim says, and Damian tenses. He stays still for a moment before turning his head. Tim takes a step closer and holds out his hand. “Personally, I think he’d be happier to get a hug from you than from me at the moment.”

“You can… see me?” Damian asks cautiously.

Tim nods. “See, hear, and probably touch, too.” He tries a grin. “I think we’ll leave taste and smell off the menu, unless you want to be a completion freak-”

“What did you do?” Damian interrupts, narrowing his eyes. “I know… I know that I’m dead. Are you dead as well?”

Tim teeters his hand. “Technically, yeah, but I can get better. You can too,” he adds when Damian bows his head. “That’s why I’m here.”

“You don’t recover from death,” Damian says flatly., still staring at his knees

“Well, I think it’s time to break the trend,” Tim replies. “You’ve never wanted to follow the crowd, right? Gotta beat everyone at everything. Why not beat Death at her own game?”

Damian raises his head, looking silently at Tim for a moment. “What did you do?” he asks again, sounding a little less accusatory this time.

“I came after you,” Tim says simply. “I got a favor from a magic user a while ago, something that would let me chase someone into the afterlife and pull them back to the other side, as long as I was quick enough.”

“Quick enough,” Damian echoes. “So you wouldn’t be able to bring back, say, Father’s parents.”

Tim shakes his head. “According to the guy I got it from, if I didn’t get there within an hour or so, there would be no use in trying.”

Damian shudders. “It didn’t take you that long to get to… me.”

“No,” Tim says softly, finally walking to crouch beside Damian. “It really didn’t.”

“It hurt,” Damian says, and for once he sounds exactly like the child he really never has been. His hand is covering the spot on his chest where the blade had gone through.

 

Tim winces. “I know.”

“I thought I could get Mother to stop,” Damian continues, looking up at Tim. “Why didn’t she stop?”

Tim sighs. “I don’t know that, Damian. I’m sorry.”

Damian draws a shuddery breath, bowing his head before nodding once. “I will ask her myself,” he says firmly, looking up at Tim again. “You know how to get us out of here. Back home.”

“I’ve got the general idea down, yeah,” Tim replies. “Are you ready?”

“Let’s go,” Damian says. It’s his Robin voice, all determination and confidence, and Tim can’t help but feel relieved.

They stand and walk through the wall of the building. Tim is half-expecting to step into some weird alternate universe version of Gotham, but it's pretty much exactly the scene that he'd left when he'd entered. Bullock is standing guard near the door, arms crossed over his chest and scowl firmly in place, while Gordon talks to a group of detectives who seem to be crowded around Tim's bike.

Damian stops and inhales sharply when they get closer, and Tim takes another look at his bike. Apparently the bike has the same sort of properties that he and Damian currently have; one of the detectives is standing half-in the rear tire. Tim grimaces and shakes his head. "Let me try to just… roll it out. You keep an eye on her and let me know if it looks, I don't know, weirder."

"'Weirder,'" Damian echoes. "Right. I'll define that broadly."

"Probably a good idea," Tim agrees, swinging a leg over his bike and kicking up the stand. "Here we go."

He edges the bike forward, keeping an eye on Damian's face as he moves. Damian frowns at the detective he's watching but doesn't comment, and when Tim stops the bike, Damian nods. "She leaned down and scratched at her leg when you rolled the last of the tire out, but seems unaffected."

"That's good," Tim says, kicking the stand back down. "Bizarre, but good. It must be a side effect of this place."

Damian's frown deepens. "This is Gotham."

"Yeah, but it's also not," Tim points out. "If it was actual Gotham, they'd see us. We wouldn't be able to walk through walls. The detective would have tripped over the bike instead of becoming part of the tire."

"It's the afterlife," Damian says. The frown hasn't lessened at all. "It reminds me of… well, for lack of a better term, a story. Something I heard when I was a child."

Tim raises an eyebrow. "Care to share?"

"One of my nurses said that when you die, your soul waits," Damian says, clearly concentrating on the memory. "There is a veil. A barrier. Your soul is on one side, and the world is on the other. You can observe what happens around you, but cannot interact with the world, and nobody in the world can tell you are there."

"That sounds awful," Tim says slowly. "And what, you spend eternity watching the world, but you're never about to be a part of it?"

"Your soul remains in Barzakh until the Day of Judgment," Damian recites. "On that day, Allah will separate the wicked from the righteous. The righteous will find rest in the Garden, but the wicked will cry out from the Abyss for all time."

Tim blinks. "I had no idea you were religious."

"I'm not," Damian shrugs. "They were stories that a nursemaid told me when I was young. I assume they were meant to entice good behavior."

"It's Islamic eschatology," Tim says. "Well, sort of. I'm not really clear on all of the details, but from what I'm recalling, it sounds like your nurse wasn't too sure of them herself. Either that, or she actually was messing around with the details to try to make you behave."

Damian snorts. "It wouldn't surprise me. She and I had differing views on what I should and should not spend my time doing."

"Less sword-fighting, more nap time?" Tim guesses.

"She was a great believer in playing pointless games," Damian says, frowning again. "I was old enough to want to do anything Mother asked of me, so I reported the nurse's activities. I'm not sure what became of her after that."

Tim very carefully doesn't shudder. He takes a calming breath before nodding and standing the bike back up. "Let's make our way back to the Cave. We can continue from there."

Damian nods and climbs on behind Tim, setting his hands on Tim's shoulders and tapping to indicate that he's ready. Tim starts the bike and heads back to the Cave, trying to shake the feeling that, other than Damian's disquieting revelations, this whole rescue thing has been a lot easier than he'd thought it would be.

-0-

Tim wants to kick himself.

Apparently the universe – or wherever they are – had heard his thought about things being too easy and had taken offense, because they've reached a wall in the road that definitely wasn't there when they'd left the Cave. It's easily twenty feet tall, and it stretches to either side as far as Tim can see. There don't appear to be any doors.

Damian dismounts when Tim stops the bike. He walks to the wall and knocks on it, frowning. "Solid."

"Of course it is," Tim mutters. "We're less than half a mile from the Cave entrance. What are the chances it's coincidence?"

"Approximately zero percent," Damian replies, stepping back from the wall and turning to face Tim. "What now?"

Tim shrugs. "We find a way in."

Damian pats at his belt and sighs. "My grapple is conveniently missing. Yours?"

A quick search of his bandoliers and saddlebags reveals that Tim's grapple and backup are also nowhere to be found. Tim cocks his head at Damian. "Any ideas?"

"It's a test of some sort," Damian says. "There's got to be a riddle or puzzle or something like that. We have to find it and solve it, and then we should be able to move on."

"A brilliant deduction," a voice says from behind Tim. He nearly topples the bike in his haste to dismount and turn. Talia al Ghul is standing a few feet away, arms crossed over her chest and an ugly, hateful expression on her face. "You are your father's son, Damian."

Tim hears Damian make a hurt-sounding noise. "Mother."

"Unfortunately, yes," Talia spits. "I had no idea that any child of mine could be so easily defeated by a lesser version of himself. That is not how I raised you, Damian."

"Cut it out," Tim objects, but he might as well not even be there, for all Talia is paying attention to him.

"Mother," Damian repeats. "Why would you-"

"Kill or be killed," Talia interrupts. "Do not just fight to defend; fight to destroy. This is a lesson you learned at my knees, Damian. Why are you so eager to forget all that I taught you?"

Damian steps into Tim's field of vision, and Tim turns to watch his brother. Damian settles into a loose ready stance, one that's better suited to defense than attacking. "There are other methods, Mother. Killing isn't the only option, as you led me to believe."

"That is weakness," Talia snaps. "Thoughts like that make you unfit. Unworthy. None of the house of al Ghul would dare think that way."

"I am an al Ghul," Damian says, but he sounds more like he's trying to convince himself than anything else. "I am your _son_ , Mother. Why did you order my death?"

Talia laughs. "You took pity on the one who was your clone," she says. "That pity has no place in the house of the Demon's Head. The weak link must be removed so the chain can be strengthened. No link is too valuable to be severed."

Tim rears back at Talia's words. She might be somewhat crazy, she might be the one responsible for this whole situation, but she's never been outright cruel to Damian's face. This isn't-

 _Oh_ , Tim thinks. "Damian, she's not real. This is the test."

Damian barely seems to hear him. "I am your child!"

"Which is why I was the one to remove you," Talia sneers. "I could not let the child I bore continue to bring shame to my name. Better by far to have no son than to have one who brings such dishonor."

"Mother," Damian whispers. Tim can see his hands shaking. He'd normally think it was from anger, but given Damian's state of mind since Tim had found him and what Talia had done to him, it's more likely a sign of how upset Damian is.

Tim walks over and puts his hand on Damian's shoulder, squeezing firmly and looking straight at Talia. "Go away, Talia."

Damian jerks beneath Tim's hand, and he turns to look up at Tim for the first time since Talia's appearance. "What are you doing?"

"She's the test," Tim repeats. "It's not her, Damian. It's some sort of… I'm not sure. A representation of your fears?"

"I do not fear my mother," Damian says. Tim raises an eyebrow, and Damian quickly looks away. He takes a deep breath and steps forward, shifting into a more aggressive stance. "Mother."

"Leviathan has many children and is mother to none," Talia says coldly. "She holds none above the rest. You are no more important than any other child of Leviathan."

"I am the son of your blood," Damian says, clenching his fists. "I am the son that you chose to raise and train."

"You are nothing to me," Talia says, smirking again. "I realized that you would never be of use to me. Why do you think I gave you to your father?"

"I _chose_ to stand by my father's side," Damian shouts. "I chose his path over yours, Mother. You cannot disown that which has _abandoned you_."

Talia's eyes flash. "You chose to disobey me once. Look where it has led you."

Damian takes a deep breath and tilts his head up, speaking clearly. "You are no mother of mine, Lady Talia."

Talia's form wavers before solidifying. She uncurls her arms and takes a step towards them, and both Tim and Damian fall into defensive stances. "You dare to-"

"I choose my father," Damian says loudly. "I choose Richard and Timothy and Jason. I choose those who have chosen me, and I choose to have nothing to do with _you_."

Talia screams and her form flickers badly, as if she's nothing but a projection that's shorting out. She reaches for them, hand fading in and out as it comes closer and closer.

"Goodbye," Damian says, turning and looking Tim in the eye. "Let's go, Timothy. We have better things to do than stand around here."

Tim watches as Talia fades completely before turning and heading back to his bike. He's not surprised to find that the wall has vanished as well.

-0-

Damian collapses into the chair in from of the computer as Tim looks around the Cave. It doesn't look any different than it had when he left, except that the screen that had shown Damian in the Wayne Enterprises building is now turned off. Tim finishes his exploration quickly and heads back to the computer.

"That was difficult," Damian says when Tim leans on the console. "I… for some reason, even knowing what she is responsible for, knowing that she cares little enough about me to order my death, cutting her out still hurt."

"She's still your mother," Tim says gently. "It's hard to just turn that off, Damian. You did well."

Damian sighs and shakes his head like he's trying to jog the memory out. He meets Tim's eyes after a moment. "So what do we do now?"

Tim shrugs and looks around. "I'm sort of flying by the seat of my pants here. I kind of thought that once we got back to the Cave, there would be some sort of 'step here and return home' panel."

"That would be cheating," Jason's voice says. Tim prides himself on not jumping too visibly; Damian isn't so lucky.

"Who is this?" he snarls, springing from the chair and standing at the ready. "How did he get into the Cave?"

Jason smiles. "I believe Timothy explained that he got the means to rescue you from a magic user. Allow me to introduce myself. I am called Jason Blood."

"Interesting turn of phrase," Damian says, not budging an inch. "Is that your name?"

"Your father once asked me the same question," Jason says, smile widening until Tim gets the sense that there's something not-quite-human lurking right beneath the surface. Of course, he knows about Jason's alter ego, but…

Damian sniffs. "Did you refuse to answer him, as well?"

Jason says something that almost sounds like his name, if half of the consonants were replaced by vowels and the whole mess was pronounced at double speed. "My birth name makes little enough sense to people today. I earned the name Jason o' the Blood long ago, and have adopted it as my own."

"You are immortal," Damian says, narrowing his eyes. "And yet I've never seen you. How is that? Grandfather makes it a point to keep track of all those who know the secret of eternal life."

"My secret lies not in eternal life," Jason says, and there's another flash of unease. Tim would swear that Jason's eyes shine red for a moment, but he knows that there's some sort of chant or incantation that Jason has to recite to get the demon to appear. Jason blinks and the red fades to brown, taking the sense of discomfort with it. "I am host to the demon Etrigan."

Damian recoils and drops his hands to his sides. "You are _mel'ewen_ ," he breathes. "The cursed one, the one who traded his soul for a demon's lifespan."

Jason raises an eyebrow. "Truly, the stories about me grow more and more ridiculous as time marches on," he drawls. "Tell me, grandson of the Demon's Head, does your family put such great stock in souls that you worry about what has been done with mine?"

"No," Damian snaps, crossing his arms over his chest and very clearly not pouting. "You are the Demonbringer, though. You don't deny that."

"It would be more accurate to say that I'm the Demonkeeper," Jason says thoughtfully. He makes a fist and holds it out, and when he opens it up, there's something small and blue glowing in his palm. "And, in case you were actually worried about it, know that I keep close tabs on the whereabouts of my soul at all times." He closes his fist, and when his hand opens again by his side, the light is gone. "Now that the pleasantries are done, can we move forward?"

"Yes," Tim speaks up before Damian can say anything else. "As you've probably noticed, I found Damian. We're ready to go back. What's the key?"

Jason shakes his head. "You've only completed half of your journey," he says. "Damian has faced his demons. You've not yet found yours."

Tim frowns. "I thought the whole deal was that I would find him, we'd get back to the safe place, and then we'd leave."

"You're in the afterlife just as he is," Jason reminds him. "Your fates are bound together, and you both must face your own trials before you can return to the land of the living."

"I cannot believe that such a trite phrase can actually be used seriously," Damian mutters. "Honestly. Grayson says that when I wake up in the morning after a long patrol."

"You sleep like the dead," Tim says absently, then winces. "Wow, okay, that's a phrase I really need to get out of my repertoire."

"Wise," Jason says, nodding at the computer screen behind them. "It seems that your destination has once again been revealed to you. Your time would be better spent facing your trial than speaking with me."

Damian turns to study the computer, but Tim narrows his eyes at Jason. "Are we running out of time?"

"Yes and no," Jason says. "You've already been a day and a half on the other side. Tick, tock, no timer in sight."

"It's barely been an hour," Tim says in disbelief.

Jason shrugs. "As I've said, time runs differently here."

Tim sighs and nods, turning to study the screen with Damian. There's nothing as dramatic as a pop or a flash of light, but Tim knows that Jason won't be there when they turn back around.

Damian taps at the console. "Our destination doesn't seem to be in Gotham."

Tim frowns at the screen. It looks almost like a desert oasis, complete with sand and low scrub brush, but there are shadows where they don't belong, moving independently of anything that the computer can focus on. "I have no idea where this is."

"Timothy?"

Tim looks down at Damian. "Yeah?"

"Eschatology," he says, pointing at the screen. "If my so-called trial brought me to my vague idea of the afterlife for my confrontation with my mother…"

"Gehenna," Tim murmurs. "Or, wait, Sheol. Both?"

"Drake," Damian snaps, and Tim blinks. Damian looks like he can't decide whether to be annoyed or amused. "Care to explain?"

"I was raised Jewish," Tim says. "Well, sort of. My mother was raised Jewish, which makes me Jewish according to tradition. When I – lost them-"

Tim frowns, memories clashing in his head. He remembers his parents hugging him goodbye before climbing into the unmarked car that Witness Protection had sent and waving as they drove off, but he also remembers his mother's funeral, then his father's, a woman named Dana…

"Timothy." There's a small hand on top of Tim's on the console when he opens his eyes. He doesn't remember closing them. "I'm sure that you and I will have several incredibly uncomfortable personal discussions when this is all over, but if we're truly on a time table, I'm going to be crass and ask you to shelve whatever is bothering you for the moment."

"Right," Tim mutters. He clears his throat and looks back to the screen. "I think this is something similar to what went on with you, twisting stories you're only sort of familiar with into something else. The two main ideas of the afterlife in Jewish tradition are Gehenna and Sheol, and neither of them is particularly pleasant. It looks like whatever is creating the afterlives here pulled the _rephaim_ out of Sheol and put them in Gehenna, though, so at least we won't have to deal with the unending darkness factor."

The amusement has apparently won out over annoyance, because Damian shoots him a rare grin. "I'll take your word on that. You know our destination?"

Tim shrugs. "The monitor showed you in the WE building when I first looked at it, and when I went outside, I was able to find you easily. It stands to reason that if we go back out, we'll be able to find that. Wherever it is."

Damian nods and turns, heading back towards the bikes. "Let's go, then."

-0-

The Cave had seemed entirely like itself, but as soon as Tim and Damian exit, it's clear that Tim's theory had been accurate: they seem to be riding down a dusty desert pathway, the end of which neither of them can see in the distance.

"This is bleak," Damian remarks. He's on a bike of his own now, but the radios in their helmets somehow have excellent reception in the afterlife. "You called it Gehenna?"

Tim sighs. "It's complicated, and I don't fully understand it myself. I was raised Jewish, but it was more of a cultural thing with my parents. I sort of taught myself most of what I know about the religious aspects after I moved in with Bruce."

Damian is silent for a moment. "Would you tell me?"

"Gehenna is… as I understand it, it's like the basic idea of Hell. It's supposedly located in a valley that was used for child sacrifice in ancient times. Then there's Sheol, which is more like the neutral zone as far as the afterlife is concerned. Sheol is a dark place filled with _rephaim_ , which are like… shadows of people?" Tim laughs a little. "I'm not explaining this well."

"Your idea of the afterlife is a blend of Hell and a dark room full of shades?" Damian asks. "Why no Heaven?"

"There isn't one," Tim replies simply. "The Jewish faith is more about how you live than what happens after that. Sheol really is neutral in the grand scheme of things. It's kind of the best we can hope for."

Damian snorts. "When we return, we should make it a priority to acquire new beliefs about the afterlife. Both of these have been dreadful."

This time Tim's laugh is more full. "We'll make up our own. The belief that the afterlife is full of bean bag chairs and those machines that massage your feet."

"Floating trays that bring you whatever food you want," Damian adds. "Cats that stretch out in your lap and purr, but never bite."

"Flying cars. Libraries with copies of every book ever written."

"All the blankets you could ever want," Damian says half-dreamily. "Pillows upon pillows. A sea of bedding."

"That's a lot better than this," Tim agrees, leaning as he turns a corner in the path, kicking up a cloud of dust. "I vote we institute hot water heaters that never run out, too. And abolish dust."

"Done and done," Damian agrees.

The drive is silent for a while; Tim still can't see their destination, and by this point, he has only the vaguest sense of where they are in relation to where they'd left the Cave. He'd be more worried if he wasn't sure that the whole scenario was built with the idea of them being able to get out at the end.

"Timothy," Damian asks suddenly, and Tim nearly jerks his bike to the side as he's pulled out of his thoughts.

"Yeah," he manages, straightening the handlebars and continuing down the path.

Damian seems to hesitate for a moment, and Tim can hear him take a deep breath. "Why did you come after me?"

"What?"

"Why," Damian repeats. "I'm certain that obtaining that talisman came at some sort of personal cost, and this journey isn't something you would want to undertake for someone you don't care about. So why me? We've never been… close. At times, we've barely been civil."

"You're my brother," Tim says, slowing his bike slightly. "Brothers fight. They compete and mess around with each other and get on each other's nerves. It's what siblings _do_ , Damian. I may not have always liked you, but you've always been my brother."

Damian's only answer is a ragged breath, and Tim presses on. "I want you on the Titans. I want you to come to New York and be a part of my team. There's so much that you can learn, and a lot that you can teach all of them, too."

"You never wanted me to be Robin," Damian says quietly.

"I didn't want you to be Robin _yet_ ," Tim clarifies. "You're ten. You're a very well-trained ten-year-old, and you can hold your own against a lot of the creeps you run into on a night-to-night basis, but the fact remains that there's a lot more for you to learn."

"And you want to teach me?"

"Yeah," Tim says, shrugging. There's no way that Damian can miss it; Tim can feel his brother's eyes on his back. "I want to teach you everything I've been taught, and everything I've figured out on my own. I want you to learn how to meditate with Solstice, and I want to see you spar with Superboy." Tim takes a breath. "I want you to have friends. People you can count on. And I want you to know that I'm one of those people."

"Oh," Damian says, and he's using the small voice again, the one that reminds Tim of exactly how old he isn't. Tim wants to call for a break, to pull over and have the rest of this conversation, but before he can say anything Damian sucks in a sharp breath. "Timothy. Ahead."

Tim focuses instantly. The path ahead looks different, darker and more heavily travelled. Tufts of the scrub brush that they'd seen on the monitor pop out of the sand here and there.

"We must be getting close," Tim mutters.

"I'd say," Damian replies. He rolls slightly ahead of Tim, pointing down the path. "There are shadow figures moving down there."

"Let's get this over with, then," Tim says, speeding past Damian again and heading for the end of the path.

-0-

"This is creepy," Tim decides, and Damian nods in apparent agreement.

The path had ended in a small clearing at the edge of a hill. There's an area marked off by scrub brush, a wide oval that doesn't really seem to be any different from the area on the other side of the brush. Well, except for the _rephaim_ , who are a lot more disturbing up close than they had been on the monitor.

"They're not really people," Damian says as another one passes by them. Tim does his best not to shudder as he looks beneath its hood; it's like something out of a nightmare, a face with no eyes, mouth moving without any sounds coming out. He's not sure if it's actually one of the _rephaim_ , or if he's somehow incorporated a video game ghoul into his idea of the afterlife.

"I think they used to be," Tim says, reaching out to brush his fingers against the sleeve of a passing shade's robe. "That's what I remember, anyway. The _rephaim_ are those who have gone before. Dead ancestors. That sort of thing."

"Creepy," Damian repeats. "So, if this is the place of your trial, what exactly is your test?"

Tim shrugs, looking around. "I have no idea. Other than this being the place we saw on the screen, I've got nothing."

Damian clicks his teeth. "There has to be-"

"Wait," Tim says, focusing on two of the _rephaim_ across the clearing. They're obviously travelling together, robes touching as they move slowly around the edge of the oval. "Do those two seem off to you?"

Damian spreads his arms wide and raises an eyebrow, but after a moment he nods. "They seem to be moving with purpose, and we haven't seen any others travelling together."

"That has to be significant," Tim says, starting to walk towards the two figures. The closer he gets, the more he can make out, and he starts to run when he sees a slim golden bracelet around the left wrist of one of the figures.

"Mom," he says, ducking his head to peer under the hood. She doesn't lift her head; she doesn't seem to see him at all as she turns to look at the other figure. Tim turns as well, looking straight into the void where his father's eyes should be.

He manages to swallow past the lump in his throat as he reaches out. "Hey, Mom. Dad. How… are you guys actually here?"

"No," Damian says from behind him. "If my mother wasn't actually my mother, then those are not actually your parents. Remember that."

Tim nods, not looking away from the shades that look like his parents. "They're my test. They have to be."

"We just have to figure out how they're meant to test you," Damian replies.

Tim shifts, reaching out to pull his mother's hood down. Her hair spills over her shoulders, dark and wavy like it's always been, but she doesn't react at all, not even when Tim touches her shoulder. "Mom. Can you hear me?"

Tim watches as her lips move, but even with years of lip-reading under his belt, he has no idea what she's saying. His father smiles in return, mouth opening around what should be a laugh. Tim tries again. "Dad? Come on, give me something to work with."

There's movement in Tim's peripheral vision, and when he turns to look, another shade slides up to his parents. It pulls its own hood down, and Tim's brain races to place the woman. She rests a hand on his dad's forearm and makes the same laughing motion, gesturing to his mom and smiling.

"Dana," Tim says, the meaning behind the name slipping into his mind and out again. leaving nothing but a sense of importance, that he should know this woman. "Dana, it's Tim. Can you hear me?"

"Timothy," Damian says quietly.

"Wait, Damian, I just need to figure out what's going on," Tim says, frowning at the trio. His father is suddenly older, with gray hair at his temples, and his mother is shorter, slimmer. Dana touches his mother's wrist and moves her lips, pointing out into the desert, and his mother nods.

The trio begins to move towards the path, and Tim follows them. "Hey, guys, wait! I need you! We can't leave until we figure out what's going on!"

Tim feels fingers close around his wrist, and he almost strikes out before he realizes that it's Damian. "Stop, wait, we have to-"

"Chase them for eternity?" Damian asks, but there's no malice in his voice. "This is your test, Timothy. I had to leave my mother behind. I believe that you have to let your parents go."

"But-"

"It goes against everything you feel you should be doing right now," Damian says. "I know."

Tim pulls his wrist out of Damian's grasp, but he stands as still as he can while his parents drift out of the clearing and into the desert beyond. Damian stands by his side as they get farther and farther away, until finally Tim can't make them out anymore.

"It's time to go," Damian says quietly. Tim turns, watching as the hill overlooking the clearing crumbles and melts, leaving the entrance to the Cave in its place.

-0-

Both Tim and Damian are silent as they dismount their bikes. The Cave is, as always, the Cave, and Tim can't tell if it's a relief to see something familiar or if he's sick of the sight at this point.

The screen above the computer is dark, and Tim sighs. "Looks like we're not getting any help this time."

"Perhaps Jason Blood will turn up again?" Damian suggests. Tim looks around the Cave, noticing Damian doing the same, but there's no sign of Jason.

"We'll figure it out," Tim says after a moment. "I guess we should start looking, right?"

Damian nods and they move away from each other, Damian to the lockers and Tim to the parking area. He checks everything he passes for signs of… well, he's not quite sure, except that he'll know it when he sees it. They work in silence, but after an hour or so of searching, Tim is at the lockers and Damian is standing by the bikes.

"Damn," Tim mutters as he walks back to the console. "I was hoping there would be a clue of some sort."

"Maybe there's something else that we're meant to do, "Damian suggests.

"Maybe," Tim says. "But there's nothing on the monitor, and Jason made it sound like we'd be able to leave after I faced my trial."

There's a quiet cough from behind them, and both Tim and Damian turn. Jason shrugs at them. "You're nearly correct, and almost finished. There's something keeping the both of you here, and it's strengthening your connection. You'll need to figure out what it is and sever the connection fully before you'll both be granted passage out of the afterlife."

Tim raises an eyebrow. "Any clues?"

"I'm not privy to what it is," Jason says, shaking his head. "There is something between the two of you that needs to be addressed. Once that's resolved, you'll find your way out."

"Okay," Tim says slowly, turning to Damian. He sees Jason fade away out of the corner of his eye "Do you know what he means?"

Damian hesitates before nodding. "I think that I might."

"Okay," Tim repeats, waiting.

There's a long moment of silence before Damian sighs and glances away, studying the bikes intently. "What you were saying. Before, on the ride through the desert."

"About you joining the Titans?"

"I want to," Damian says quickly. "I'd like – your teammates seem like they have a lot to offer. I'd like to study them, and study _with_ them. I… it could be very helpful."

Tim smiles and nods. "I'm glad to hear it, Damian. I think everyone will benefit from that."

"There's more," Damian says, finally looking back to Tim.

"Yeah?" Tim prompts.

Damian beckons him closer and Tim leans in farther and farther until Damian suddenly flings his arms around Tim's neck and squeezes hard. It is, Tim realizes with a bit of a shock, Damian's approximation of a hug. Tim wraps his arms around Damian and hugs back for all he's worth.

"Thank you," Damian says quietly. "I… thank you, Timothy."

"You're welcome, Damian," Tim says, closing his eyes and holding on for a few seconds longer before pulling back. "I'll always go after you if I'm able."

"I'll find a way to do the same," Damian says fiercely. "We are brothers."

"That we are," Tim agrees. He doesn't think he'd be able to wipe the smile from his face if he tried. "For now, though, let's see if we can find a way out of here."

Damian nods, and Tim turns his head to look around again. He's expecting something magical, so he's a little disappointed when he doesn't see a floating portal in the middle of the Cave.

"Timothy," Damian says, narrowing his eyes at the staircase that normally leads up to the Manor. "I'm not sure why, but I feel as if we should head upstairs."

Tim looks at the staircase, frowning when he feels a similar compulsion. "Maybe it's really that easy?" he ventures. "In order to go home, we have to… go home?"

"Rising from the dead," Damian adds. "Coming out of the ground."

"I have an addition to our proposed afterlife scenario," Tim says as he heads for the staircase. "No caves."

"Agreed," Damian says. They both pause as they reach the bottom of the stairs, peering up. As always, it's impossible to see the top of the stairs from the bottom.

"Well," Tim says. "Willing to give it a try?"

Damian nods. "Let's go."

-0-

The Cave is out of focus when Tim opens his eyes, but it sharpens as he blinks up at the ceiling. He groans and turns his head to the side, wondering what he’d missed, what else it’s going to take to get them out of the afterlife and back to-

Dick inhales sharply when Tim’s eyes land on him, and he’s up in a flash, grabbing Tim’s hand and squeezing it tightly. “Oh my God, Tim. It’s – you’re here?”

“It does seem that way,” Tim replies after a moment, sinking back into the cot he’s resting on. The relief in his chest is immediate and intense. For a minute, he'd thought that the escape hadn't worked, and that they were back in the afterlife-Cave. That this is the real Cave is something Tim doesn’t really know how to process.

Dick drops into the chair that Tim only just notices is pulled to his bedside, never loosening his grip on Tim’s hand. He brings their joined hands up to his forehead and presses the back of Tim’s hand against his skin, closing his eyes. It takes a moment for Tim to realize that Dick is doing his best not to cry.

“Jason Blood explained what was going on,” Dick says quietly. “That you had asked him for some sort of talisman a while ago, and that you pulled it out when Damian…"

_Damian._

Suddenly, all Tim wants to do is make sure that Damian is in one piece, one living, breathing piece. He’s terrified to look, now that he thinks about it, because what if Damian didn’t make it back? What if all they’ve been through had been for nothing?

Damian’s left hand is still clutched in Tim’s right, the pendant warm between their palms. Tim squeezes Damian’s hand gently, then a little harder when there’s no response. He tugs his left hand from Dick’s grasp and sits, swinging his legs over the side of his cot and standing so he can get closer.

It looks like Damian is sleeping. His chest is rising and falling as if he’s breathing, which Tim takes as a good sign until Dick says something about magic and "restful stasis." Damian’s hand is warm, though, and when Tim brings his fingers to Damian’s wrist, he can feel a steady pulse.

"Hey," Tim says, tapping on Damian’s wrist. "Damian. I did not drag you out of the afterlife just to have you float back there."

There’s no response.

“Damian,” Tim repeats, shaking their joined hands. “Come on. Wake up.”

“Tim,” Dick says softly. “Look, you did your best. You did way more than was called for, okay?”

“No,” Tim spits. “That’s not – _no_ , Dick.”

Dick moves around the cot and sits, wrapping his arms around Tim’s waist from behind and pressing his face against Tim’s back. “Thank you for trying,” he whispers, and this time, Tim can tell that Dick loses the fight against his tears.

“No,” Tim says, holding Damian’s hand with both of his. “Damn it, Damian, _wake up_!”

There’s no change, no indication that Damian can hear him at all. Tim draws in a shuddering breath as Dick pulls him closer. There are footsteps approaching from the side, and a moment later Bruce’s hand is on Tim’s shoulder.

“Tim,” Bruce says quietly.

“I don’t understand,” Tim says, turning to him. “I don’t – did I take too long?”

“You were out for four days,” Bruce says. “Jason Blood didn’t seem to know how long it would take you, nor how long you had.” He closes his eyes. “I’m sorry, Tim.”

“No,” Tim says blankly, He squeezes Damian’s hand once more before looking down at his brother and letting go, gently unwrapping the string from around their wrists and pulling the pendant from between their hands. He puts Damian’s hand on his chest, curled over the blade wound that no longer seems to be present, and runs his fingers along the back of Damian’s.

A horrible silence fills the Cave as Tim clenches his hand around the pendant. He takes a breath and looks at it, string dangling from his fingers, before turning and throwing the pendant as hard as he can into the shadows of the Cave. All of that work, all that they’d struggled, all of the promises he’d made to Damian – everything that Tim had hoped for shatters as the pendant hits the ground in the darkness, breaking across the stone floor.

There’s a choking sound from behind him, but Tim can’t make himself turn back and face Dick yet. He needs to get his breathing under control first, because if he couldn’t get Damian back, the least he can do is be there for Dick now.

Bruce grabs him by the shoulder and spins him around by force. Tim looks to Dick immediately, but Dick isn’t looking at him. He’s staring at Damian’s cot, and the expression on his face isn’t heartbroken, isn’t the hardest thing that Tim has ever had to see-

Tim turns and looks down at Damian.

And Damian blinks back up at him.

**Author's Note:**

> “Leviathan has many children and is mother to none” is a paraphrase of a conversation between Talia and The Heretic in issue 9 of Batman Incorporated.
> 
> “Mel'ewen” is a rough transliteration of the Arabic word for “cursed.” I am imaginative.
> 
> I am well and fully aware that both Islamic and Jewish eschatology are somewhat misrepresented in this story. This is a purposeful choice on my part, and I put a lot of research into exactly how to misrepresent those ideas. Keep in mind that in this story, the afterlife is what you expect it to be, so both Damian and Tim’s versions of the afterlife are based on what they heard growing up or read about in books. They are, you might say, myths wrongly interpreted. (I’m so clever.) I did my best to misrepresent them in ways that are not offensive; if I’ve made a major misstep, please message me and let me know what’s offensive in what I said. Please don’t just tell me that I got it wrong. I know.
> 
>  
> 
> **All of the art in this story was made by kitsunebaba. It is absolutely amazing to me that the story I wrote inspired such amazing art, and I beg everyone to[leave comments on the art](http://kitsunebaba.livejournal.com/8677.html) as well as on the story. You should also all visit the link to see the images in their full-sized glory. Thank you so, so much, kitsunebaba!**


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